


picture me and you

by fakeglasses



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Photographs, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, and getting cosy, anxious jisung, its getting hot in here! so take off (some) of your clothes!, mentions of drinking, warm autumnal vibes, whiny boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakeglasses/pseuds/fakeglasses
Summary: The older boy turned, reaching for a neat row of books on the shelf by his bed from between which he wriggled out a small collection of printed strips. Minho hesitated a little with them in his hand; he didn’t think that was how their evening would end up. He didn’t expect to be divulging these photos from their hiding place, and he certainly didn’t expect to have a cute and slightly tipsy Jisung waiting on his bed.-Jisung and Minho frequent a photo booth to make fun memories late in the evenings, but Minho doesn't acknowledge just how much those photos mean until Jisung asks to see them.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 28
Kudos: 306





	picture me and you

_Snap._

“Quick, do a cute face.”

_Snap._

“Now an ugly one.”

“That’s easy for you."

“Hey!” Jisung shoved Minho lightly with his shoulder.

_Snap._

“Damn! If you’re out of shot in that last one it’s your own fault for being rude.”

Minho laughed and shook his head, stepping out of the photo booth curtain to collect their printed strip. As expected, it was a little blurry, a little too bright, and they didn’t quite get the timing right on the fourth and final snap. But it was still cute, and Minho knew exactly where he would keep it - with a growing collection of similar photobooth strips, tucked inconspicuously between books on his bedroom shelf.

Minho considered for a brief second how romantic that could possibly seem from the outside, but he quickly refused that thought.

Some free time and spare change was all they needed for their little tradition, a tradition that began simply as a way to kill time while the others were shopping one evening. Jisung had pulled him away from the clothing stores and over to a photobooth, one of those gimmicky ones at the mall where users could doodle on the images and give themselves cat ears (which of course, Minho did with enthusiasm). Half an hour later they were practically falling out of the curtain with laughter after playing with the editing tools for too long. Minho had finally run out of coins; coins which he had happily spent on posing for snap after snap just to see Jisung smile and laugh each time.

After a few months, their tradition had become more regular. They visited not to make silly edits and waste money, but often to mark particular occasions - after a new song release, after being nominated for some award, or even just after a long day of practice. Minho slipped them all between his books, little snapshots of their most exciting days.

And yet he never looked at them after they were stored away.

He never revisited them, never spread them out on his floor and reminisced; he only touched the space between those books to quietly add a new piece to his collection. There was something too strong about them.

Minho felt like if he were to look at all the strips side by side, something would happen. If he thought too much about how his collection contained just him and Jisung - squashed together in a private moment with their knees knocking, their arms around each other’s shoulders and their laughter filling the booth - something would happen inside his heart and he wouldn’t be able to return from it.

Despite taking them to commemorate group achievements that he felt a lot of love for, he didn’t want to think about how much of that love was stored in photos of just the two of them alone.

Jisung snatched the print out of his hand, pulling Minho out of his musings. He laughed at the last photo.

"See! We’re _both_ out of shot!"

"You pushed me," Minho retorted, slipping back into a playful mood.

"You called me ugly!" Jisung argued, but his mouth formed a heart-shaped grin that betrayed his fighting talk.

"It's fine. This must be like, the twentieth time we've done this - it's no loss if one of them isn't so great," Minho reassured him with a small smile.

"But I want them to be nice," Jisung whined. He looked down. "I mean, only because they're not that cheap."

"It's me that's paid for most of them." Minho couldn’t resist ruffling the other boy’s dark hair a little, ignoring the pout he received in return.

"Let's walk." Minho pocketed the photo strip as usual and they headed for the mall exit.

-

It was late by now, and the damp, windy October night greeted them as they stepped out onto the street. The others were already back at home after they had all eaten together, and Jisung half wished he had left with them as he felt a chill blow through his denim jacket.

The neon signs of bars and shops still illuminated the road ahead, reflecting off the puddles that dampened their boots as they walked side by side. It was a quiet evening in the city, just the whistle of the wind and the occasional bell chime from patrons coming and going through a restaurant door. Windows at every business were condensated by warmth, yet the amber glow of table lamps still eked its way through them and spilled onto the wet street.

Jisung thought that Minho appeared annoyingly cosy alongside him, smartly dressed in a long, chestnut-brown wool coat. A neat black scarf was wrapped up to his chin, and his dark hair shone golden as they passed the lit windows. Jisung was caught somewhere between jealousy and admiration.

He pulled his own thin jacket closer. Trust Minho to look so put together all the time, and trust himself to rush out without a proper coat.

Jisung had been eager to get out that evening. It had been a long working day for all of them, and the thought of a cold beer and hot food with his best friends had him practically throwing himself out of the studio.

He had also been eager all night for Minho to catch his eye over dinner. He had hoped that towards the end of their meal Minho would down the last of his drink and tilt his head towards the door, as he had done on many other nights before, as if to say; _come somewhere else with me._

And so just as Jisung had hoped, they had ended up alone in that same little booth after the other members headed home; squashed onto the seat made for one person and feeling wonderfully separated from the outside world by just a curtain.

Jisung’s mind continued to wander as he let his boots scuff through a puddle. Minho skirted around it neatly. He wondered if Minho kept any of the photos they took, or if they ended up discarded somewhere. _Surely he wouldn’t just get rid of them_ , he thought - Minho, for all his composed appearances and quick humour, was still a soft and sentimental person to him. Jisung briefly entertained the possibility of the other boy keeping all of the photos - perhaps in one secret place as if they were precious - and he felt a little lightheaded. It was probably just the drink he’d had.

He pondered for a moment about what he would do if he were the one to always pocket the photos. He knew that he would keep them, if he could. But he didn’t want to ask for them, didn’t want to make a big deal out of their little tradition when to Minho it was probably just a bit of fun.

They headed on in comfortable silence, but as they reached home Jisung’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Do you keep any of them?”

“Keep what?”

“Our photos.”

A moment of quiet passed as Minho stopped in front of their building, turning to face his friend. Jisung noted how his eyes were still warm and cat-like even under the fluorescent of the entrance light.

“I do.”

“Oh… Can I maybe look at them sometime? I swear we’ve taken loads and, maybe, it would be fun to look at them again.” Jisung fumbled through his explanation. “Y’know, just for all the stupid faces we made.”

Minho held his breath for a moment. Jisung was asking him to do the very thing he had been avoiding; he was asking him to pull the precious collection out from its settled place, to disrupt the comfortable, willful ignorance that he had been living in for as long as he could remember.

Jisung’s round eyes just shined back at him as he innocently waited for an answer.

Minho released his breath and took Jisung’s hand before he could think twice, pushing their entwined fingers into the pocket of his own warm coat where they rested alongside the newest photo strip.

“Then let’s do that now.”

-

They stood in the elevator for what felt like a painful eternity to Minho. He didn’t quite know what he was going to do with those photos when they reached his room, nor how to cope with the wonderful feeling of Jisung’s soft hand still clasping his within his pocket.

Jisung just stood dumbly beside him, maintaining eye contact with the metal doors as if he willed them to open. Finally they reached their floor; he practically pulled Minho out onto the corridor in his awkward haste.

“Sorry. Um. After you,” he fell back and gestured for Minho to lead them to his room.

Minho just huffed out a laugh. Jisung’s funny behaviour reminded him that he probably wasn’t the only one feeling affected and confused by the other.

Jisung found himself not a minute later perched on the edge of Minho’s bed, his boots shed outside the door. He had been in this cosy room countless times but now it felt a little claustrophobic. At least it was tidier than his own, he noted. He tried to glance around subtly as Minho hung up his coat and turned on a lamp, wondering where these photos might be.

The older boy turned, reaching for a neat row of books on the shelf by his bed from between which he wriggled out a small collection of printed strips. Minho hesitated a little with them in his hand; he didn’t think that was how their evening would end up. He didn’t expect to be divulging these photos from their hiding place, and he certainly didn’t expect to have a cute and slightly tipsy Jisung waiting on his bed.

“Here,” Minho casually held them out to Jisung, but he felt his own hand tremor slightly.

“Did you want to look at them together?”

Minho sat down next to him, perhaps a little more eagerly than he had intended. If he had to face what had avoided, at least having Jisung here might provide some comic relief. They’d already had a drink or two and Minho could probably just laugh at the photos with him, rather than deal with the strange longing that he knew would ensue if he looked through them alone.

“Sure,” Minho replied.

Jisung picked one at random from the other’s grasp. It was the usual four-photo vertical strip; this one was simply in black and white with no doodles or effects. The pair were smiling and making a series of heart shapes between them - a big lopsided one with their fingers touching over their heads, and smaller ones with their hands coming together, forming each half of the heart.

Jisung grinned, mirroring their gleeful expressions preserved in monochrome print. He snuck a glance at Minho beside him, who was also gazing at the photo with endearment.

“I wonder when this was from? It’s cute but I don’t remember it specifically,” Jisung murmured curiously.

Minho simply turned the strip over in Jisung’s hand.

There, on the back, was a smiley face and a date scribbled in pen. It was apparently from one evening earlier in summer.

“Oh. Did you write that?”

“I do it on all of them,” Minho admitted quietly with pink cheeks. Again, it was probably the drink he’d had. He scratched the back of his neck, his thin black sweater suddenly feeling awfully warm. “They’re in order as well, so don’t mess them up too much.”

Jisung didn’t know how to reply to that. The colour of his face matched Minho’s chagrin, as his mind whirled with the thought that these photos meant enough to Minho for him to preserve them so lovingly.

“I wondered, sometimes, whether you had kept them or not,” he finally managed to say.

Minho’s eyes softened, turning from embarrassment to tenderness.

“Of course. Did you really think I could just throw them away?”

Jisung wanted so badly to alleviate the pressing tension he felt in the room. It was comfortably cosy to begin with but now his face felt on fire. Minho somehow seemed to be closer than before; even though there was still space between where they perched side by side, the directness of his eye contact made Jisung feel like they might as well be nose to nose.

“Well, I guess that’s because you paid for most of them, right?” he joked hastily.

“Jisung, you know that doesn’t matter. I kept them because I wanted to.”

“And... Do you want to keep doing this?” Jisung didn’t really even know what he meant by _this_. He tried to clarify himself; “Taking these photos together, and keeping them?”

Minho didn’t reply at first. He returned his attention to the pile of images on the bed between them, and pulled out a strip from near the very bottom. One of the photos in the strip captured Jisung with a mock-surprised expression on his face; mouth open in a full grin and eyes wide. Minho was facing him in the photo, lips planted firmly on Jisung’s cheek with his hand coming up to hold the other side of the boy’s face. Jisung remembered that one. He remembered how they had both immediately laughed and carried on, Minho putting in more coins for another turn while Jisung tried to shake off the way that his face tingled delightfully for the rest of the night.

“Yes, I’d like to keep doing this.” Minho’s reply was little more than a whisper now.

 _This_ sounded to Jisung like it meant a thousand possible things. He felt delicate fingers brush a fallen lock of hair out of his eyes, and he looked up from the photo, not quite believing his own senses.

Jisung may have thought about this kind of situation before, but he never allowed his mind to take it too far. When they had sat together in the restaurant that evening - as he waited patiently for Minho to suggest heading out - he considered how easily he could slip his hand into Minhos and lead him away instead. After another drink, Jisung thought about how perfect it would feel to take initiative and place a hand on Minho’s thigh; and even better to feel Minho’s hand under the table touching him back.

He had halted that thought and returned to his meal, trying to tune back into the group’s conversation but unable to fully shake his desire. Sitting next to Minho sometimes felt like sitting too near to a fireplace; what started out as a comfortable warmth that he wanted to be close to, soon became something too bright and too hot to even look at.

And yet here he was, in Minho’s room, getting closer to that fire and feeling the heat all throughout his body again.

Minho’s hand came to rest in Jisung’s hair, feeling deliciously warm and comforting even though he still burned inside.

“Are you ok? You feel very hot,” Minho teased him a little, but the genuine concern and nerves were clear in his tone.

“You think I’m hot?” Jisung mustered up the spirit to joke.

Minho just rolled his eyes.

“I meant, is this ok? Am I bothering you?”

“You- just keep doing that...”

Jisung simply closed his eyes and leaned into those fingers stroking through his hair. Minho felt emboldened by the way the other boy seemed to chase the feeling of his touches, and allowed his other hand to rest over Jisung’s on the bed between them.

Jisung’s breath hitched and his eyes opened at the sudden touch, but in return he finally moved his free hand to Minho’s thigh, urging him closer than he already was. It felt even better, even more perfect than he had imagined earlier that evening while they drank together. They still sat side by side on the bed, but their shifting made the glossy photo strips slide right off the covers, tumbling out of order to their feet. Minho couldn’t find it within him to care right then.

“Now I’m too hot,” Jisung complained, not wanting to halt the touches but struggling not to overheat with apprehension.

“Same”, Minho huffed. Without a second thought he removed his hands from Jisung and tugged his own sweater over his head, uncovering just his white t-shirt underneath. Jisung tried not to be affected by the way Minho threw the sweater across the room as if he were impatient to return his attention to the other boy.

Jisung followed suit, yanking his long-sleeved top over his own head and dropping it to the floor alongside the photos, leaving him in his plain black t-shirt. They were both still fully clothed, but it felt intense to Jisung - both of them breathing as if they’d just taken the stairs, their hair tousled by all the touching and sweater removing. If anyone were to see him now they’d think he’d been ravaged. He already felt exposed, yet it excited him; the way Minho’s gaze ran appreciatively over his now-visible arms and neck. The older’s thin white t-shirt clung to him beautifully as he moved toward Jisung again - this time he placed both his hands on the younger’s shoulders, gently urging him to lay back on the bed.

Minho hesitated; “If you don’t want this or if you want to go-”

Jisung fell back and looked up at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Minho hovered over him apprehensively, dying to lower himself onto Jisung and give in to the heated sensation that was threatening to engulf him. For what felt like a whole minute they just stayed there, breathing in each other’s space, eyes locked. To look back at Minho felt like looking at the sun, but Jisung let it burn him anyway. Minho still gripped his shoulders as if he were moulded to them, and Jisung’s hands came to rest with a hesitant touch on his waist in return.

“Can I kiss you?” Jisung broke the silence.

“Please.” Minho didn’t care about being composed and dignified anymore.

Jisung tightened the hold on his waist, pulling him down at the same time as Minho lowered himself. They met with chasteness, soft lips touching briefly in silence then parting again with a light pop as they tested each other’s waters. Two pairs of brown eyes sought each other, silently agreeing; _Again? Again._

Jisung’s arms came to wrap entirely around Minho’s middle, inviting him to come as close to him as possible. And this time Minho indulged him fully - swinging a leg over Jisung and bringing himself down to straddle the other until they both lay with their noses touching. Their lips met again, less hesitantly, and they pushed and pulled gently until Jisung bit at Minho’s lower lip. Minho was unable to stop a small gasp escaping, and he responded by opening his mouth to Jisung, allowing their tongues to meet with slow, lazy movements like they were eating honey from each other’s lips.

“You still good?” Minho finally broke away to check on a very red-faced Jisung, moving to place a small kiss on his cheek in the meantime.

“Yeah, but I think I need to catch my breath,” Jisung half-joked, panting slightly after Minho had practically kissed the air out of him.

“That’s ok.” Minho had another way he wanted to try this, and he moved up and off Jisung.

The boy whined at Minho leaving his grasp, but he just laughed and lay back on the other end of the bed, reaching for Jisung and pulling him down on top of him instead. His legs raised and found their place again on either side of Jisung’s waist, this time wrapping tightly until his ankles crossed.

“Now you’re in control,” Minho whispered, feeling the other’s hips come down against his just as he’d hoped.

“I’ll do whatever you like,” Jisung said honestly, not quite realising what Minho wanted from him.

The older boy rolled his eyes in amusement. “I want you to do what _you_ want. That’s what I’d like.”

Jisung didn’t take too long to think about it. He ran a hand down Minho’s thigh and up over his hip to where his white t-shirt was coming untucked from his jeans. Minho squirmed impatiently beneath him as Jisung’s fingers pushed under his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband and baring his skin even more.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen the other’s body before; but in this setting, Minho was vulnerable for his eyes only. Lying underneath him with his strong legs urging him closer and his exposed torso lit by the glow of the lamp, looking up at him with such affection and want; Jisung wished he could preserve this vision somehow. An idea popped into his head, and he pushed it away for later.

Minho could barely compose himself, loving the sensation of Jisung using his hands on him however he liked, but also wanting to pin the other down and touch him all over in return. He compromised by letting his hands wander up Jisung’s arms, running his fingers over his biceps and scraping his nails under the sleeves of his black t-shirt. A particularly sharp dig of nails into his shoulder muscles made Jisung shiver, enjoying the unexpected contrast of pain and warmth as he continued his touches over the hot skin of Minho’s chest.

“You’ll leave a mark if you do that,” he warned.

“Maybe I want to,” Minho flirted back with sincerity.

“I know, but we shouldn’t be too obvious,” Jisung reminded him, attempting some caution and reason despite his love-addled brain barely functioning right now.

Minho pulled him down for another kiss, finding it endearing and charming that Jisung was so concerned about their privacy at this moment. But Minho just wanted to live in this moment - entwined so close to his favourite boy, lips meeting again and again in a way that excited him every time - and he couldn’t be bothered to worry about anything outside of his room just yet.

“Do something to me, then. I can hide it, I’ll say it’s a bruise or whatever,” Minho suggested casually. Either way Minho had a small fantasy at the back of his mind about doing something to mark Jisung as his, or the other way round. He realised that might explain why he coveted those photos and marked each one deliberately with the date - it was his way of solidifying whatever this was between them.

And to fulfil his fantasy, Jisung shifted back a little before he lowered his head, allowing his mouth to press upon Minho’s stomach alongside his hands. Minho gasped again at the new, wetter sensation, his hand coming up to thread into the back of Jisungs hair and hold him there.

Jisung bit tentatively at the skin like he had before at Minho’s lip, feeling braver at the thought that the older boy wanted him to take control more. He now suspected it wasn’t just him that had been holding such thoughts, daydreaming about the other in less than friendly situations and imagining each other’s touch.

He held the side of Minho’s waist to stop his impatient shifting, and licked a spot on his ribcage just below where his t-shirt had been pushed up to. Minho sort of wished he could shed his t-shirt and feel Jisung’s mouth everywhere, but he knew they were still exploring their boundaries and slowly opening up to each other. He didn’t really care what they did, as long as their hands never strayed from each other, and so he didn't need to do more than this for now.

“Keep doing that,” Minho murmured, relishing in feeling the back-and-forth of teeth and tongue across his stomach. It was almost too much to witness; the sight of Jisung between his legs with his head down was sending his mind spiralling further than it should be going. _Save that thought for later,_ he told himself. With eyes closed, he felt Jisung focus his attention on one particular spot, biting and sucking repeatedly until it was tender and sore.

Despite Minho’s desire to stay this way all night, he felt Jisung sit up and abandon his body in favour of reaching over the bed for something else.

“Hey. I thought I told you to keep doing that…” Minho whined childishly.

“I thought you told me to do whatever I want?” Jisung corrected him with a smirk. “Smile, baby.”

He had picked up his phone.

“What-”

“You keep all our photos. So maybe I can have one for myself?” Jisung ventured.

Minho looked down at himself; legs still spread where Jisung had moved out of his grasp, shirt pushed up to his chest and marks blooming on the skin there - he didn’t doubt that his mouth and hair were also in a sorry state.

“I thought you were trying to be careful,” Minho admonished him, preening slightly at the idea of Jisung wanting to keep a picture of him looking like this.

“I’ll be _very_ careful.” He reassured the older boy with another kiss. “In fact, I’ll look at it every night to make sure I haven’t lost it.” Jisung joked but he knew that he truly wouldn’t be able to stop looking at a picture of Minho like this if he could capture it.

“Alright. Then, perhaps, can I take one of you sometime? To add to my collection?” Minho bargained. Somewhere in his question was the implied meaning of _can we do this again, please?_

“Of course. And now I know what this feels like, I’m not letting you get away,” Jisung said, assuaging Minho with that promise.

“What do I even do?” He laughed. “Am I supposed to pose or something?”

“Just stay there. You’re perfect.”

Jisung knelt between Minho’s legs again. The older boy looked up through his lashes at the phone above him, and Jisung really did think he was perfect. His dark hair was splayed out against pale bed sheets, tousled by all their shifting and touching, and his lips still bore the rosy wetness of being kissed intensely. His white shirt exposed smooth skin that was golden in the dim lamplight, only dappled with a light sweat and the sporadic redness left by Jisung’s mouth; finally, Minho’s arms stretched above his head, falling in a vulnerable and relaxed manner that said _this is only for you_.

_Snap._

**Author's Note:**

> alternative summary  
> minho: top me!  
> jisung: im shy bro 👉👈
> 
> inspired by their actual cute photo booth pics. any feedback/ideas or general chat is appreciated!


End file.
